


Comes and Goes (In Waves)

by BlueJay_Silvertongue



Series: Modern Age WonderPoison [1]
Category: Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Diana fighting monsters and doing battle and then going home to her wife, F/F, Justice League WonderPoison style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJay_Silvertongue/pseuds/BlueJay_Silvertongue
Summary: Chapter 5: Bruce calls the Trinity together after Justice League v Steppenwolf (and gets roasted). Diana and Isabel return to Themyscira.





	1. Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Temple of the Amazons goes up in flames. Diana doesn't come home that night.

_I’m leaving now. I love you. Please_

At 5pm, a message lights up Isabel’s phone, the one that Diana had snuck into her workbag one day, and then proceeded to spam with sweet messages and selfies in front of old artifacts. Isabel stares at the seven words, motionless, for what feels like hours. _Please_ what? Stay put? Come along? Be safe?

“Dr. Maru?” The young student’s voice startles her from her frozen state, and she looks up. The news coverage from Greece is a blur on her laptop screen next to a copy of the syllabus for her afternoon class. The undergraduate shifts uneasily as she stares blankly at him.

“I just… I just wanted to know- the assignment-”

“I have to go.”

* * *

The sky is still blue as Isabel stares out the tinted car window at the Parisian horizon. No approaching armies. No hovering clouds of poisonous gas. No flying gods. No Diana.

It is already 6 when Isabel arrives at home. She waves away the servants, and they retreat with their offers to take her coat and feed her food and give her the day’s mail. The TV is turned on, and Isabel sinks down onto the couch, her eyes wide as she stares at the rising flames through the blurry screen.

At 7, it is already dark outside and a chill has settled down over the room. Isabel wraps herself in a blanket and watches over and over again the grainy footage of the burning temple. The dog comes in and licks her hand. She lets it.

At 8, the news anchors switch, and Isabel’s bony fingers grip the TV remote as she flickers through channel after channel, looking for more coverage from Greece.

At 9, a servant comes in to light the fire. She mumbles _thank you_ and then realizes she’s been alone for the last ten minutes.

At 10, the cook leaves, and the back door opening and closing makes her heart leap. But no footsteps approach over the hardwood floor.

At 11, the news anchors say good night, and she turns the TV down to a low murmur. The clock’s ticks fill the quiet room, growing louder and louder. Isabel jumps every time the old house creaks.

At 12, Isabel is staring at the ceiling. She’ll be back. She’ll always be back. But Themyscira has not been invaded for centuries upon centuries. Maybe this time… but no. She’ll be back. She’ll always be back. She _must_ come back.

At 1, a loud commercial startles Isabel from her dozing, and she fumbles with the remote for a moment, then lowers the volume. She pushes a button on the phone in her hand, but there are no messages, no missed calls, no updates.But the night is still young.

_You've let them forget that an attack can happen at any time, from any cover._

Words she once lived by. Words she now must live by again.

At 2, someone spins a giant wheel and wins a new car. Isabel calculates the velocity of the ridiculous prop. Identifies the precise colors of every contestant’s shirts. Calculates the amount of taxes the winner will have to pay for their free car. Calculates the amount of time it costs to stage, film, and edit this lunacy of a show. The house creaks, but she doesn’t notice.

At 3, the cat wanders in, its tail snapping back and forth as it stares at Isabel’s sleeping figure. She meows, but Isabel does not wake.

At 4, a tall figure picks up the remote from the floor and quietly flicks off the television, and then strong arms slide under Isabel’s sleeping body and lift her from the couch. Isabel opens her eyes as gravity suddenly becomes obsolete, but she simply turns to bury her face in the waves of soft hair. She can feel the goddess breathing as she climbs the stairs. Her heart is pounding through her hard armor. The house is dark, but Diana doesn’t bother to turn on any of the lights as she makes her way to their bedroom.

_“Please_ what?” Isabel murmurs, raising a heavy arm as metal-clad boots nudge the door closed. Her phone is still clutched in her hand, volume up, vibrate on- just in case. Diana does not make it a habit to keep her phone with her during battle, but occasionally, she will send a message after her missions, asking casually if Isabel wants anything from the bakery or the grocery store. Diana tsks, as if suddenly remembering her unfinished message- or perhaps annoyed that Isabel is holding her accountable for a fragmented sentence. After all, it had been sent in the panic before rushing back to her invaded homeland.

The phone is tugged from her grasping fingers and laid onto the nightstand, and then Isabel is stripped of her rumpled work clothes and laid gently onto their soft bed. A warm body dips down beside her, and gentle hands cup her cheeks. The rough palms smell like smoke, and Diana's lips taste like salt water when they press up against hers.

_You’ve been crying. What happened?_

But Diana tucks Isabel’s head underneath her chin and ignores the unspoken question- and for a moment, Isabel thinks her wife isn’t going to speak to her at all. But then she takes a slow breath, and her voice is tired, but it is low and sweet as she pulls Isabel close and murmurs,

_“Please don’t wait up for me_. I’m sorry.”

Isabel smiles and tries to relax, but Diana’s heart is still pounding, heavy and thrashing against the side of Isabel’s head. 

_You’re worried._

She winds a loose strand of the woman’s long, dark hair between her fingers and tugs lightly, but Diana shakes her head.

“No, Isabel. Not when I’m with you,” she says softly, raising a hand to tuck a stray hair behind Isabel’s ear.

“Then act like it, _Princesa_ , _please_ ,” Isabel mutters, her voice already drowsy with sleep now that Diana is here. The goddess chuckles softly, and her tense muscles finally begin to relax. Isabel closes her eyes and listens as the thumping of Diana’s heart settles down to a deep, steady throb.   

By 5, Isabel is dozing, warm and content in her lover’s arms. Diana lies awake, stroking her hair, listening to her breathe, counting the seconds. 

At 6, Diana slides out of bed, dresses silently, then crawls back up over the bedspread to press a tender kiss onto her sleeping wife’s lips.

And at 7, Isabel wakes from a comfortable dream of warmth and light. The bed is cold. Diana is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Diana technically does come home, but it's early morning, not night...
> 
> Thanks for reading! This will just be a little collection of WonderPoison scenes set during Justice League. I have a couple in mind that I'll write and post soon, but if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears!


	2. Check Yes or No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred Pennyworth travels to Paris to ask Diana Prince a question and ends up learning something very... important.

_I have to find… I have to find it… I have to..._

Diana never gets past this vague statement, and Isabel doesn’t push her for an explanation. But the sight of the goddess in her full armor and her wild hair spilling over her tiara while she hunches in front of her laptop would almost be amusing if Isabel didn't understand the panic it indicated. Diana doesn't look up as she approaches, but she leans back as Isabel's human hands reach out and began to massage her tense shoulders. It is like trying to coax life from stone.

 _Did I marry a living goddess or a statue, Diana?_ Isabel would have teased if Diana was in less of a harried state. But she apparently hears her unspoken snark anyway, because lightning-fast fingers reach back to slap her hand. Isabel bites back a chuckle and pulls away.

“No, don’t stop- Isabel-” Diana tears her eyes away from the laptop screen and turns in her seat to face her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Diana’s hands reach up to clutch at hers, and they are shaking.

_I’m so sorry._

“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Isabel says, raising an eyebrow. _I knew what I was doing when I married you. I knew exactly what I was doing._ A warm hand slides around the back of her neck, and suddenly Diana’s face is close. _Very_ close.

“It’s today, isn't it?”

Isabel gives a smirk that is almost unkind, but she pushes her wife’s head away, back to face the flickering screen.

“You can thank me later, _Princesa_.”

Diana groans, but she returns to her frantic search, and Isabel continues to work out the knots in her back.

“Excuse me, there is a visitor here for the lady of the household.” The maid’s voice is casual, far more casual than most voices would be when taking in the sight of a goddess getting a back massage from her sinister human lover.

“What kind of visitor in the last century has asked for the _lady of the household?”_ Isabel snorts. Diana rises, but looks down at her armor, panic flickering into her eyes, and Isabel waves her back down.

“Please,” she scoffs. _You are not a lady, Diana. LADIES do not wear armor in the house._

“I heard that, Isabel,” Diana calls as Isabel strolls out of the room.

“And _especially_ not on their anniversary!” she shouts back, and then she saunters into the entryway and finds herself face to face with an old man.

Isabel raises an eyebrow. British. Military. Diana had never mentioned that- but then again, Isabel had never been curious about anything related that arrogant playboy from Gotham City. His butler stands and carries himself like a soldier, but not quite a soldier- more likely a spy. A retired spy. But do spies ever retire?

 _“Yes?”_ she asks after a moment of him staring at her and saying nothing.

“I’m sorry, may I please speak with the lady of the house?”

“Her _ladyship_ is not available to accept visitors at this time,” Isabel sniffs, because if Alfred Pennyworth wants to pretend it is the 1920s, then she is more than qualified to play along.

“Of course… then could you please give your mistress this message? It is quite urgent.”

“Hasn’t she already done enough for your spoiled philanderer of a master?” Isabel mutters, snatching the envelope from the butler’s hands. _Wayne Enterprises_ is stamped into the corner, and _Ms. Diana Prince_ is written in swirling cursive in the center. “And it is _Doctor.”_

“Excuse- excuse me?” Alfred asks incredulously. Isabel raises the envelope and waves it in his face.

“Doctor. Dr. Diana Prince. _That_ is her name.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Of course you didn’t,” Isabel interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Stay here a moment, you may be useful.”

“I- if you could please give that to your mistress in a timely manner-”

“She is not my _mistress,_ Mr. _Pennyworth,_ she is my-”

“Alfred!”

Diana has stepped into the entryway, her open laptop still clutched in one hand.

“I thought that was your voice,” Diana says, her own tone enthusiastic but tired as she strolls forward to kiss both his cheeks. “What brings you to Paris?”

“Ms- er, _Dr._ Prince,” he says, taking a subtle step back at the sight of her in her full armor. “I am so sorry to intrude-”

“Nonsense, it is wonderful to see you. And I see you have met my wife?”

(And Isabel laughs for _days_ afterwards at the look of dismay that crosses the butler’s face.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Alfred is just impatient for ~~grandchildren~~ the next generation of Waynes, but _honestly_... Anyways, Diana may be oblivious to conspiracies to set her up with random men, but Isabel certainly is not, and she takes GREAT delight is dismantling them, one by one.
> 
> Also, Isabel is SUCH a... er, arrogant individual. But she's really quite a good person, and Diana likes her very much. (She's mostly snippy in this scene because Diana is in panic mode and it's making her nervous. Also, it's their wedding anniversary and it's looking more and more like they're going to be spending this one apart...)
> 
> Thanks for reading!! I do appreciate so much your comments and kudos! :-)


	3. Is She With You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana storms home after dueling a supervillain and getting riled up by a rich kid with issues. Also, a mild fix-it for the “thirsty” conversation, and Isabel’s opinion on faceplanting.

“When you've lived long enough, you learn that trouble never comes alone. It just doesn't. When Clark's father died in the tornado, we lost everything, and we…” Martha Kent’s voice trails off and she waves a hand, trying to mask her watery eyes with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make this all about me- it’s just the farm, I can’t believe they would- but it doesn't matter, it's just a house, just an old-”

“We’ll get back your farm. Bruce Wayne will buy it back for you. It’s the _least_ he can do,” Isabel says rather sharply, but her expression is surprisingly soft as she hands the older woman a cup of tea.

Martha shakes her head, trying to smile in return. Lois accepts her cup of tea with a murmured _thank you_ , but her gaze remains fixed on the chemist as she settles down across from her on the couch. There is a flicker of reporter’s interest in her bright eyes, but she says nothing. Martha Kent may have been surprised when an armored warrior appeared at the _Daily Planet_  and invited her to stay at her and her wife's home outside of Metropolis, but Lois, somehow, was not. Perhaps she had reached the point where she was beyond surprises.

"The world will always reject what it cannot understand," Isabel says rather abruptly. "For better, or for worse."

_You're psychotic._

_That is a three syllable word for any thought too big for little minds._

“I hope…” Lois begins, but her voice falters, even though her eyes don’t leave Isabel’s face. “I know she’s been undercover. I hope she knows what she’s doing- how quickly the world turns against its heroes.”

“Well, the media is just so ruthless- and I don't mean you, dear," Martha says, laying a hand on her daughter-in-law’s arm. “But it's not easy for anyone in the public eye, superhero or no. Clark made the right decision, to live as normal a life as possible, and it sounds like your wife is doing the same."

“Diana decided long ago her place in man’s world,” Isabel says, setting down her cup of tea and reaching out a hand to the cat, who had apparently decided on a whim to join her on the couch. “We both did, years ago.”

A short, comfortable silence follows as they sip their tea, then Martha Kent says,

“Well, I do appreciate you both for letting me stay here, Dr. Maru, truly, I...”

But Isabel is no longer listening. The cat keeps head-butting her hand, and although she may only be a mortal human, she can still sense when a goddess is hurling through the sky towards her.

_Diana._

A shadow appears before her on the couch, and the cat _meows,_ then leaps into the tall figure's arms.

_"Isabel..."_

And that is all. The goddess disappears as suddenly as she appeared, the cat letting out a high-pitched squeal as it is transported three floors down, to the basement far below the parlor. Isabel closes her eyes, then sighs and rises.

"Excuse me," she murmurs, raising a hand and gesturing for a servant to tend to their guests. The walk down to the basement is long, silent- frightening. She can feel Diana's prescence, and it is cold and empty... and  _angry_.

 _Diana_.

"I fought him. I faced him. I could have defeated him."

Her voice is hollow as Isabel steps into the pitch-black basement. She edges forward, shivering as the dark shadows swirl around her.

_Diana, can we not have a little light-_

"They distracted me... kept me from killing him. They let him get away."

_Maybe you weren't meant to do this one alone._

"They are going to bring him back. Kal-El. With no guarantee, with no idea of _what_ they are dealing with. They will not listen to me."

_You knew from the beginning that mankind would not listen-_

"I have already watched humanity destroy itself so many times. It is my sacred duty to defend the world and the innocents, but this..."

_You cannot defend a world that is determined to destroy itself._

"Steppenwolf is my responsibility. I can take him and defeat him, but I cannot save men from themselves, I cannot save them from their own stubbornness, from their own inability to believe..."

_Since when did you care about the opinions of men?_

"I will not wait for them. I will not wait- I will not risk the lives of millions while they bicker amongst themselves about their plans- we cannot afford to wait- I waited before, and Steve..."

Diana's voice cuts off abruptly, and Isabel stops trying to navigate her way through the room. She is alone, in the dark. Listening hard for her goddess wife's pounding heart.

"Diana?"

"I punched him."

Her voice is cold.

"Who?"

"Bruce. I... he accused me of..."

"Accused _you?_ Of _what?"_

"Of hiding, of not leading- of staying in the shadows, as if it was a _choice_ \- as if mankind had been _waiting_  for me with open arms after the war, as if I did not _try_ to bring about peace, time and time again, only to be silenced and rejected- as if I did not _try_  to make the world a better place, and lead mankind away from its love of descrution and bloodshed, as if I have stood by all this time and done _nothing_ -"

"He's only a child, Diana. He's only a boy- why do you let him-"

But the lasso is in Diana's hands now, burning, and Isabel stumbles back at the sight of the goddess' blazing eyes.

_You are more angry than I thought... oh, Princesa..._

“I will not allow them to stop me. I can take Steppenwolf on my own,” Diana seethes, ignoring her. “If I can battle him alone, without having to worry about anyone else, I can do it- I know I can do it, I've done it before, I took on Ares, I killed him and destroyed him-”

“And you both _destroyed_ an airfield-” Isabel interjects, backing away. Jagged bolts of electricity are flickering up and down the burning lasso, and Diana's bracers are beginning to buzz with energy.

"That was _decades_ ago- I didn't know my powers, I didn't know what he was capable of, and I didn't-

"Diana, listen to me- it took a _massive_ alliance to defeat Steppenwolf the last time-"

 _"_ Are you on my side or  _not_ _,_ Isabel?!" Diana demands, surging forward.

"This has nothing to do with _sides!"_ Isabel shouts, her back pressed against the wall as Diana towers over her. "Ares was _weak._  He was _still_ recovering his powers-”

“ _You do not know that_ ,” Diana rages, the lasso thrashing in her hand. Isabel’s eyes widen, and for a moment they flash with a sliver of her old hatred.

“Yes. I _do_.”

Her voice is cold, bitter.

Diana freezes. The white-hot light racing up and down the lasso dies down, leaving behind its warm, comforting glow. Silence stretches across the room, then the rope of light slithers from Diana's hand.

_All these years I have whispered ideas, formulas, weapons..._

_His chief psychopath, Dr. Isabel Maru…_

_The boys in the trenches call her Dr. Poison…_

_Dr. Poison herself..._

_Dr. Poison…_

_Isabel..._

The chemist lifts her chin. Diana takes a step back.

"Isabel..."

But the woman says nothing as she stoops and gathers up the coiled lasso from the floor.

“Isabel, wait,” Diana says, the anger gone from her voice.

You can’t do this alone, Diana,” Isabel says without looking at her.

“I _can_.”

“This is _Steppenwolf_.”

“You don't believe me?”

“I _believe_ you can defeat Steppenwolf. But he has help, and you’re overestimating yourself. These other people- as _unsavory_ as they may be- have come together to defeat him and the parademons-”

“I don't need them.”

“ _They_ need _you_.”

Diana sighs angrily and holds out her hand. Isabel hands her the lasso, but they both hold on- and for a moment, they stand together, staring at each other over the dark room, both of their hands bound with the glowing rope… a reminder of another time when the world hung on a precipice, and the only thing they had to cling to was a rope of light and blind, foolish hope...

_Promise… that you will not give up on me. That you will continue to hope._

_I promise._

“This is not your world, Diana,” Isabel says quietly, looping the lasso around Diana’s arm and stepping back. “You’re not here to change them. You made that decision at the beginning. You’re here to help them. That’s all you can do.”

“I want to do more.”

“You _know_ why you can’t.”

_With our powers combined, we could finally end all the pain, all the suffering- and we could return this world to the paradise it was before them..._

_I can never be a part of that._

Diana lets out an inhuman cry of frustration and throws her sword down, sending it through the concrete floor, 30 feet into the ground. Isabel sighs and reaches out an arm towards her distraught wife, and the goddess stumbles forward, throws herself onto the couch (it groans under the force of her impact, and Isabel is worried for a second that they are about to join the sword), and buries her face into Isabel’s lap. Diana’s arms snake around her waist, holding her tight.

For several long minutes- or maybe several hours- they remain completely still, listening as their racing hearts slow, as the rage dies down in them both, and as the room slowly comes back into focus. The old house is creaking softly, and the wind is murmuring against the high windows. There is a clock ticking on a cluttered desk, and the cat is licking itself on the middle of the rug. And at last, Diana sighs, burying her face even deeper into her wife’s lap, and Isabel winces as the tiara of Antiope jabs into her leg.

 _I’m so tired, Isabel_.

“What you need,” Isabel says, loosening the bronze crown from Diana’s tangled hair and setting it aside. “Is to _breathe,_   _Princesa_.”

“I am breathing,” Diana mumbles, her voice muffled by Isabel’s thighs, the adrenaline from the day's battle and subsequent arguments finally dying down to bone-deep exhaustion. The chemist runs a tentative hand over her lover’s shoulders, and lets out a slow breath of relief as she finds the hard muscles free of tension. Diana may be a hurricane when she is angry, but for now- at least at this very moment- she is calm.

_Oh, my innocent princess, what have they done to you?_

Isabel bends to press a kiss onto the back of Diana’s head, and the goddess whimpers like a child.

“I’m breathing, Isabel,” she repeats, her voice slurred with drowsiness. Her arms tighten around Isabel’s waist, making her jerk uncomfortably. “I’m _breathing_.”

“I heard you the first two times. And will you please look at me?” Isabel says impatiently. “Unless you have other plans for tonight’s activities, there’s no reason for you to be down there like that.”

“I do have other plans,” Diana replies, wiggling her head.

“No, you don’t,” Isabel retorts, tugging none-too-gently at the tangled mane of hair. Diana groans and surfaces, twisting around so then she is staring up at her disgruntled- but rather amused wife.

“You are a _mess,"_ Isabel scolds, but she is smiling.

“I know," Diana smiles back.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They stare tiredly at each other for a moment, then Diana reaches up to brush her knuckles down Isabel’s cheek.

“You’re very pretty, Isabel.”

“ _Diana…_ ” Isabel sighs, rolling her eyes, but her hands are gentle as they comb through Diana’s hair.

“No, I’ve always thought so… why else do you think I spared your life?”

“Because I looked _pathetic_ , kneeling there at your feet.”

“No, it was because you were so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“Please- have you _seen_ your mother?” Isabel scoffs. Diana makes a face.

“...are you in love with my mother?” she asks suspiciously, her lower lip pushing out into a pout.

“Hmm, maybe,” Isabel says, a wicked smile crossing her face. “She is a queen after all, and _you’re_ just a princess-”

“She asked about you, you know,” Diana interrupts, pressing a finger against Isabel's lips.

“What, she asked if I wanted to marry her, too?”

“ _Non_ , _ma puce_ , she asked if you wanted to stay at Themyscira until all of this was over.”

“See? She likes me.”

“It only took her about _fifty_ years.”

“Well, it took _you_ ten.”

“I wonder _why,”_ Diana says meaningfully, but she sits up rather unexpectedly and presses a sweet, sleepy kiss onto Isabel’s lips. Isabel kisses her back, gently, tenderly, and then Diana presses in, opening her mouth with hers, their tongues dancing together. Diana’s hands tighten around her waist, and Isabel can taste as Diana’s thoughts gradually shift from blind, superficial joy, to the dark, weighty fear from earlier. Isabel’s hands tighten around the goddess’ neck, and Diana presses in even further, making her gasp.

_Diana… please…_

Diana pulls back, but doesn’t pull away. Her lips linger on Isabel’s, and for a moment they sit in silence, eyes closed, breathing.

 _Oh_ , _Isabel_... _don’t send me back_. _Please don’t send me back. Not yet. Not yet..._

“I wouldn’t dream of it, _Princesa,”_ Isabel murmurs against her lips. Diana gives a sigh of contentment, then slides back down to rest her head against Isabel’s lap. She is asleep within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally shorter, but I realized that the first battle with Steppenwolf happened right before the scene where Diana punches Bruce, and that's... a lot to deal with in one day/night.
> 
> Also, I didn't mind the Martha/Lois conversation, but that thirsty joke was just... the stupidest thing in the entire film aside from the faceplanting scene. Anyways, I think it's cute for Isabel to keep these two company even if it's just for a day, because if anyone can understand what it's like being married to someone like Diana, it's them. (Disclaimer: I've never written Martha Kent or Lois Lane before, so I'm sorry if they're not quite right).
> 
> Also, I know Diana's thing is kindness and patience and compassion, but... the woman is a warrior and a goddess. She has the right to get angry (as we saw quite often in WW)!
> 
> Thanks again for reading/commenting/kudoing! I have two more scenes in mind for this fic, and if anyone has any suggestions, I'd love to hear!!


	4. Leave-taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes together one last time before leaving for Russia (and they find out about Isabel in the meantime).

_“If_ we make it through the night.”

Bruce raises his glass and drinks, and then hesitates, his eyes fixed on Diana’s face, about to say something he’s probably going to regret. Diana glances away, fiddling with her glass, and then she relaxes as Arthur stomps in. He makes a beeline for the whiskey.

“There’s a woman in there with your butler. She rolled her eyes at me.”

“Yes, she does that,” Diana replies with a small smile, handing over her still-full glass. Arthur pours it down his throat, then picks up the jug, clearly about to empty it as well. Bruce stares in horror, then shakes himself and says,

“Who?”

* * *

“I heard your master took quite a hit.”

“And it is not over yet,” Alfred says, his low, growling voice making the words seem even more sinister. “Tea? Coffee?”

Isabel waves the words away and watches as Alfred navigates between computer screens.

“I’m glad you came, despite- well, never mind,” Alfred says, leaning back in his chair and gesturing for Isabel to sit. She remains standing, her arms crossed. “Intelligence is my area of expertise- technology. But my studies rarely delve into the chemical, and that is where our operation is lacking.”

“Perhaps it would be better to let it lack,” Isabel says sharply. “Wasn't he the one who threatened to kill Superman for no reason at all?”

“That… was not him at his best.”

“We can’t rely on _anyone_ to always be their best.”

“Not even your-”

“Excuse me- is _this_ the way into the pantry? Batman- I mean, Bruce- he said to just come in here, although now that I think of it, he _may_ just have been trying to get rid of me-”

“Yes, Master Allen, the pantry is that direction-”

“Oh, _I’m_ not a master, I’m not- I mean I’m really just- oh, hi- I didn’t know anyone else was in here, who are you?”

“Never _mind_ who she is, the food is _that_ direction,” Alfred repeats, waving his hand, and Barry disappears.

“That one is not a fighter,” Isabel says, her eyebrow raised.

“No. But when you are attempting to save the world from complete destruction, you cannot be too particular.”

“Or too _careful.”_

Alfred snorts. “A lesson that is _yet_ to be learned in this household.”

_“Alfred, we’re heading out. Victor located the mother boxes in Northern Russia. Is the Batwing ready?”_

“Coming right up.”

“Does he actually name _all_ of his technology after himself?”

“Please, Dr. Maru, he’s never worked a respectable job in his life. What do you expect?”

_“Who are you talking to?”_

But before Alfred can answer, the doors to the lab burst open and Diana strolls in.

“Isabel- my darling, we’re leaving.”

“To Russia? How unimaginative,” Isabel says as Diana reaches out for her.

“Well, they can’t all be as imaginative as _you_ , my love,” Diana says, wrapping her arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Isabel slides her hands onto Diana’s bare shoulders and gazes up at her, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Bring me his head, won’t you? I want to do some experiments with it.”

“His head? Whose head?” Diana asks, and Isabel smirks as the goddess bends to brush her lips against hers.

_Oh, Diana, be careful._

“Let me go and win you a prize,” Diana murmurs between kisses. “Capture a monster… defeat a supervillain.”

 _“You already did,”_ Isabel whispers. Diana’s hands tighten around her waist, and then she pulls away to look her in the eye. And for a split-second, the teasing leaves the goddess’ face, replaced by something… something reckless and deep and solemn and old, as if she recognizes that this moment has been repeated by her ancestors over the ages- warriors departing for war, going off to fight for what they are leaving behind.

_Watch and wait for me, my darling. I will be back._

_Come back to me victorious, my love._

Diana takes a breath, and it is shaky. But her eyes are bright as they rove Isabel’s face, taking in every last detail. And then she drops her hands and turns away without another word, her grip tightening on her sword as she strolls towards her teammates.

...who are all standing still as statues, staring at her with their mouths wide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have SO many scenarios for the JL finding out about Isabel for the first time, but this one was fun to write. I also thought it was so poignant for Alfred to be standing there alone, watching as they fly off...
> 
> Also, supposedly in Snyder's version, Diana actually beheaded Steppenwolf, which would have been SUCH a satisfying ending...


	5. Room For More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce calls the Trinity together after Justice League v Steppenwolf (and gets roasted). Diana and Isabel return to Themyscira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of time jumping in this chapter because you know I couldn't write a fic without at least ONE non-linear chapter.

Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, is eating ice cream. The beach is white, and the water is that deep, glorious, heart-achingly familiar blue. The setting sun’s rays are just beginning to skim the restless surface, making blurred silhouettes out of the dog and cat as they chase the waves (earlier, the cat taught the dog how to swim. Isabel only had to shout at them once).

“You do know that you now have the entire Amazon army at your beck and call?”

“I’ve had them there since the _first_ time I made ice cream,” Isabel says, rolling over another barrel. Diana pushes away her empty bowl and rolls onto her back to look at her.

“Which one is that?”

“Coffee. But you stay away, this one is for _me_.”

“The _whole_ thing? You’re not going to share?”

“No.”

“ _Isabel.”_

“Stay away- do _not_ make that face at me, Diana.”

“I’ll do what I want.”

And perhaps to prove that point, she pulls a laughing Isabel onto the sheet, pins her down, and kisses her: once, twice, and again. Isabel can taste the sweet residue of ice cream on Diana’s tongue, and she tries- and fails- to scowl up at her.

“I _know_ what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” Diana bends down once more, but this time her lips are brushing against Isabel’s throat. “And what am I doing?”

“You’re distracting me so then you can- _Diana-_ so then you can take my- my-”

But Diana knows her too well- and here, with the sun setting over this very beach where they had made love together on their wedding night… Isabel gives up and winds her hands through Diana’s hair.

The past few days have been filled with far too many distractions anyway, and _none_ of them were half as enjoyable as this...

* * *

The battle is over. Victor reopens the Boom Tubes, and the parademons are sucked back into their own world, one by one. They burn the body of Steppenwolf where he fell, but Diana returns to Gotham City with the head of her ancient enemy beneath her arm, and none of the team protests when she presents it to her strange, tiny wife.

They fly back to Paris within the hour, and Isabel spends the night in her lab (Diana hovers in the background, occasionally stealing kisses). At last, close to sunrise, Isabel's work is done, and she collapses onto the couch, asleep before her body hits the soft cushions. Diana looks back and forth from Steppenwolf’s wide, dead eyes to the sprawled figure of her exhausted wife, and then shakes her head. Isabel doesn’t wake as Diana carries her to their bed, but her small hands cling to her jacket as she lays her gently onto the silk sheets. And this time, Diana is there to kiss her hello when she finally opens her eyes that afternoon. (They eat a very late breakfast in bed, then spend the rest of the day cuddling, playing sappy love songs on the radio, and listening to each others’ heartbeat).

* * *

“Big round table. Six chairs right there.”

“And room for more.”

“Unless you don't _like_ each other and prefer to sit that far apart…”

“You know, I see why you keep her around, Diana.”

“She keeps me honest, Clark… just like you do, Lois.”

“Honest? Oh, he doesn't need me for that- but I will say that Dr. Maru is right: a big table like that with only six chairs will make it _impossible_ for normal people to talk to each other-”

 _“God_ , Alfred, will it ever end?”

“Your team making fun of you? No, Master Wayne, I don't think it will; you've found yourself a group of people who seem determined to make you an honest man.”

“...and room for more.”

* * *

They stop by Gotham City on their way home at the invitation of Bruce Wayne. (“I have an idea. I want to show you all my parents’ old house.”) Lois and Clark apparently were also invited to share their interior design expertise, and that evening, the six of them find themselves sitting at a medium-sized table at the best restaurant in Metropolis, toasting each other, celebrating their victory, and lamenting the absence of their missing friends.

But Barry has started his job (“I hear he’s always late to work. Always. I don’t understand it!”), Victor is spending the night with his family (“He and his father are making some truly exciting breakthroughs- you might check in with them, Dr. Maru, they’ve sent me some amazing reports.” “I’m afraid my days of human research ended ninety-five years ago, Mr. Wayne. But as it were, Dr. Stone and I _have_ been in correspondence.”) and Arthur hasn’t been heard from since they returned from Russia (“He's been bragging nonstop to all the Atlanteans about singlehandedly defeating Steppenwolf… how do I know? Arthur’s not the _only_ one on the team who can talk to fish, Bruce.”)

As they’re saying their goodnights outside the restaurant, Isabel pulls Clark aside, away from the others, and when they are out of hearing range, she says softly,

“You know she could have destroyed you.”

Clark glances back at the others, but none of them seem to notice this exchange taking place.

“Yes, I’m... I’m very glad she didn’t, Dr. Maru.”

“Hmm. But in any case…”

The small woman leans forward, and Clark does the same, wondering if perhaps she wants him to hear better (he can hear just fine). But her eyes are glittering as she stares up at him- absolutely fearless, nose to nose with Superman.

“...I'm sorry, in any case what?”

“In any case, don't you _ever_ touch her again.”

Clark takes a step back, his eyes wide behind his thick glasses, and then he smiles that shy, crooked smile that Lois Lane must find so endearing.

_“Duly noted, ma’am.”_

* * *

“I hope tonight wasn’t too much for you.”

“No. It was fine,” Isabel replies, but she yawns and rests her head against Diana’s shoulder as they fly over the dark bay. The patchwork of lights from Metropolis and Gotham City are stretching out to the horizon, and the stars are peeking through the murky brown smog overhead.

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

But Diana knows that she is. Isabel shifts next to her and Diana glimpses the carefully wrapped bundle clasped in her hands.

“Are you ever going to let go of that thing?”

“Yes. When we give it to your mother. But it came out so nicely, didn’t it?”

“What if she decides to burn it instead of keeping it?”

“She wouldn’t! She can’t!”

And Diana laughs and wraps an arm around her strange scientist wife, and sets the invisible plane’s course towards home.

* * *

When they arrived at Themyscira, the entire Amazon army assembles- warriors, senators, merchants, farmers, healers. And the hall is solemn and quiet as Diana approaches the throne and kneels before her mother. But when Hippolyta lifts the preserved head of Steppenwolf from her outstretched hands, the island echoes with screams of victory.

That night there is a feast, and Isabel nearly falls asleep in the middle of Diana retelling the story of the “Justice League” and their defeat of Steppenwolf and his parademons. But she is awake when Diana and Hippolyta lead the way to the great hall and mount the head of their ancient enemy onto the wall, there to stay as a reminder to those who would threaten the Amazons- and the world.

* * *

“How long do you think it will last?”

It is early morning. The dog and cat are sprawled out on the beach, sleeping. But Isabel and Diana are still lying awake- skin to skin, cheek to cheek.

“How long will what last?” Diana asks, one arm curled beneath her wife’s head, the other hand running through her thick hair.

“This. The peace.”

“It will last as long as it wants to- maybe a day, maybe a decade. Why?”

“Because we should be better prepared next time. If we set up-”

 _“Isabel…_ we're here to _enjoy_ this, our victory. None of that, no worries about tomorrow.”

“Very well.”

“Thank you.”

“But you _do_ know that Steppenwolf has a nephew-”

“Isabel, _no!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, Justice League was released 10 days ago today, and this fic is at an end! I've had a blast writing these little scenes, and I hope you've had a blast reading them! Thank you so much for your comments and kudos!
> 
> I have a lot of WonderPoison projects that I will be working on/posting over winter break, so if you've enjoyed reading about these two, please do check back in a few weeks. :-) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!


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